


Wicked Uncle Peter

by GiggleSnortBangDead



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, F/M, Girl!Derek Hale, Incest, Knotting, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 08:13:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiggleSnortBangDead/pseuds/GiggleSnortBangDead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter loves his niece.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wicked Uncle Peter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hanggracefully](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanggracefully/gifts).



> Let me tell you a little story about hanggracefully, or, as I like to call her, Grace. Grace has never seen Teen Wolf. Not one episode. Maybe some pictures. She, like, vaguely knows what these guys even look like. But, I have her read most of my stuff before I post it - just to make sure it's not too horrible. And, she's the biggest Peter/Derek shipper I know. Which is crazy - because this is the first time I've actually written that pairing. Like, what, Grace? 
> 
> She just thinks that, due to the interactions I've had them have in past fics, they've got a dynamic she can get behind. So, she when she asked for a fic like this and I was, like, "Fine, I'll throw it on the mountain of other things I have to write." And, now I wrote it.
> 
> Because, I love you, honeybunny. Even though you're weird. And I'm normal.

He was six when Big Sis started to have children. Laura was the first, screaming and crying and bleating into existence in a way he didn’t fully comprehend until he had spent hours researching. 

He had thought she was ugly because he hated other children and she took his much deserved attention away. Surely, he was more interesting than some infant, and required much more consideration. For all he cared, they could have left her screaming, crying, cold, until she wasn’t screaming or crying anymore but significantly colder.

When Big Sis became pregnant again, she was so happy she glowed and Peter was nine. Laura was a disgusting toddler who had unfortunately been taught to speak and walk. She preformed these acts gracelessly - a disgrace to all speaking, walking creatures before her. Peter dreaded the next child. He didn’t want to be the center of attention anymore - he could get more accomplished when he wasn’t under such close scrutiny - but he hated the idea of another ugly, filthy, tiny creature running around the house, touching things, breathing. 

He had spent whole days holed up in his room, brooding and plotting ways to avoid this future child, and all of Big Sis’s subsequent children, as he was assured there would be more. In four or five years, Peter would be old enough to babysit - and Peter was so _mature_ , everyone liked to muse that he might be fit for the task even sooner. Peter’s two best solutions to his situation were running away or poisoning Big Sis’s children. 

Running away was less than ideal. His life, excluding the issue of obnoxious family, was comfortable. Hiding from Pack was difficult, at best. Even more than being fiercely loyal and possessive of family, wolves could track their young through nearly any harsh conditions. What’s more, any nosy traveler he came across might not be eager to accept that a nine year old traveling on his own had the permission of his guardian.

Poisoning the other children was problematic as well. If he were caught, the repercussions could be severe. As a young boy with only a slightly more advanced understanding of his criminal inclinations, he doubted such an action could be traced back to him if he worked cautiously, slowly. And, the children were so small - it probably wouldn’t have even taken _that_ long. 

There were some strains of Wolfsbane that, in appearance, seemed completely harmless.

Big Sis went into labor on a December morning when Peter had much more important things to be doing. He was dragged along but had to sit in the waiting room. Through all the doors and distance and other screeching, aching new mothers, Peter could hear Talia scream. He thought she deserved it. He hoped it hurt more than she could bear. He sort of liked the child coming - just for that second - because of the pain. Of course, the feeling passed because he _hated_ any and all of her children.

They were there into the late evening, Big Sis’s mate pacing and babbling nervously. Other Packmates brought food, and Peter read and reveled in her anguished labor. 

Finally, just as an older relative was preparing to take him and Laura and some of the other children home, there was a silence. Big Sis wasn’t screaming but sobbing and sighing and the high wails of new Pack were sounding through the hall. 

No one wanted to crowd a tired Alpha with their new young, so Peter was ushered in, because he was Talia’s only brother, as was her mate and first child. The little wrinkled thing was swaddled and pink and Big Sis was cooing and smiling sleepy and smug at her husband, as if to say _look what we made_. Peter didn’t want to see it, but had an appropriate congratulatory response ready that wouldn’t register as a lie. 

His carefully planned words didn’t make it out of his mouth. Objectively, the child was ugly, because it was a newborn. But, she had hazel eyes and little curling fingers and a small mouth that wasn’t open screaming but yawning, as if her arrival had exhausted her. 

“Peter, come say hi to Deria.” Big Sis raised the child’s hand in a little mock-wave, and Deria let her without complaint. 

The child was falling asleep but Peter held out his hand and said hello and Deria grabbed one of his fingers between her two hands and brought it to her mouth. It should have been repulsive to him - she had no teeth, her mouth was a soft, slobbery, gaping orifice - but he didn’t pull back. She looked like she might fall asleep just like that. 

Big Sis’s mate laughed, holding Laura on his hip and clasping one, unwelcome hand on Peter’s shoulder. “It looks like she likes you.”

Peter thought that he might only poison Laura.

* * *

Peter liked babysitting. He was sixteen and obviously had better things to do with his Friday night then stay home and ensure that Big Sis and her mate had a date night and opportunity to ensure the growth of their Pack. He knew Talia’s cycle - he knew what they were doing. He just had more important things to worry about at this point in his life.

Laura was at a sleepover, which he and Deria had had to drive her to. She had squealed upon seeing her friends, which had made him wince and Deria laugh and clap her hands, because this was exciting. Laura was happy and Deria got to spend the night with Uncle Peter. And Deria _loved_ her Uncle Peter. 

He drove her back and she told him about kindergarten and her best friend of the week and some boy who’s a bully and told her that she looked like a dog. She had punched him in the shoulder, harder than kindergartners usually punch each other, and been put in time out. Peter assured her that it was the right thing to do - all boys are pigs. 

“You’re not a pig, Uncle Peter.” she said. 

“Of course not.” he scoffed. “I can’t be a wolf and a pig.”

And she nodded, because Uncle Peter was always right.

At home, he made her dinner from a box - she liked those the most because, as a child, she had no taste. They ate in front of the TV and watched a show about cheerful ponies. Deria was warm against his side, a comfortable weight leaning against him. He pet a hand through her soft, dark hair, and she was content and oblivious, and his touch swept over her shoulder and side, her only wriggling when it tickled. 

He bathed her after, and she was soft, sleepy, squirming, in the warm water. She fussed once, asserting that she was old enough to do this herself, and Peter shushed her half-heartedly. His sleeves pushed up to his elbows as he washed her, her eyes lids drooping, his touch lingering. But it didn’t hurt anyone. 

And when he put her to bed, she let him kiss her the way he taught her - the secret way that only uncle’s kissed their favorite nieces. She might not have understood why he was licking into her mouth, but she liked sharing a secret with him. He lay with her until she was asleep - because she slept better with him protecting her - and then as long as he dared after. 

Once Big Sis and her mate were back, Peter went over to his current girlfriend’s house. She asked him why he never took her out on the weekend. He fucked her hard to shut her up.

* * *

Peter went off to college and saw Deria start puberty through pictures and a Christmas visit. She grew up and filled out quickly, with one, brief awkward phase. When he came back with all his degrees and a job offer at a consulting firm, she was mostly out of it. She was still young - _so young_ \- but she’d returned to her full beauty. 

She trusted him less. He didn’t think she remembered her childish interactions with him, but she must have realized that the attention he gave her was less than conventional. He couldn’t have cared less, as she still loved him - in a new way. Her affection for him was from both a child and adult, and the arousal that he could scent on her felt right and perfect and deserved. So, it didn’t matter what she said, and Peter had always been nothing if not patient. 

Paige would have been Peter’s gift to Deria. The whole ordeal had been beyond ridiculous. He had known the infatuation wouldn’t last and, had the bite taken, she would have gone to live with Ennis and his Pack. But, Deria could have had something more than breathless, hushed, inexperienced gropings in deserted warehouses. Deria could have had honesty.

In a way, honesty was still Peter’s gift to his niece, despite the human girl’s death. 

Deria had had to kill her, of course, and Peter spirited her away after, knowing that Big Sis would be there soon and wanting Deria to himself for at least a little while. 

“I fucked up, Peter,” she sobbed in his car. “I fucked up. It’s all my fault. I don’t know what happened - I couldn’t _save_ her.” 

Peter shushed her and sped to a motel. 

“Where are we going, Peter?” she wept. “I want my mom. I need my mom.”

“Do you realize what you’ve done?” Peter asked, softly. “Talia would have been there any second. You _killed_ someone, Deria.” and Deria squeezed her eyes shut and bit down on a whine. “Your mother will understand, and she’ll take care of what needs to be done - but we have to keep you away for a little while.”

Deria didn’t say much more, but muffled cries into her palms and nodded. They arrived at the motel, and Peter got them a room. She was sniffling once he got her out of the car and inside.

“Go wash up.” he told her, and she did, going to cleanse herself of the blood and dirt and _Paige_ that still clung to her body. Peter turned on the television and rubbed a hand over his face.

This was it. His token of goodwill had failed. Peter didn’t believe in signs but, if he had, he would have recognized this to be one. This was his moment to take after trying to give. Deria was washing herself, crying, and Peter was taking off his belt, throwing it over a chair. He knew she was in no state to fight him off. Paige was unfortunate but she’d recover. She just need a push - another option.

The faucet turned off in the bathroom and Deria muddled about in there more, her breath hitching regularly. Peter was almost about to call her out - finding it near impossible to wait - but she appeared. 

“Deria,” he said with some sympathy. She was shaking and smelled sweet with sorrow. He took her hand and had her sit on the bed. “Now, Deria, you know it’s not totally your fault. Paige was weak. She wasn’t a viable mate, was she?”

“I love Paige.” Deria said, trying not to cry. She corrected herself. “Loved.” She rubbed her red, sore eyes. Peter sat next to her, the good, attentive uncle, and touched a hand against her back. 

“My darling,” he said to her. “You’re young. You have your whole life ahead of you. Paige is a blip. You’ll find a better mate.”

“Like who?” Deria asked, like it was an accusation. She flared her bright, now blue eyes at him. Something in Peter’s expression must have set her off because she pulled back a little. It was like it had just hit her - like it had been in her mind all along, never occurring to her. She asked, already knowing the answer, “Why do you smell like that?”

“Oh, Deria.” Peter sighed. His hands stretched the expanse of her tense back.

“Uncle Peter, what’s going on?” she choked out, preparing to pull away. He shushed her and groped around, holding her waist so she was pressed firm against him. 

“Deria, I’ve been waiting so long.” he told her.

“Uncle Peter, no,” she shook her head, weakly, pulling away. He held her in his grip tighter.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this. I’ve been so _patient_. I would have even waited your young ladylove out - but _I don’t have to_.”

“Peter, you’re scaring me.” she whined out, her struggles becoming more violent. She looked like she was about to cry again, her cheeks blushing and lips trembling. 

“Deria, be good for me.” Peter said, starting to cover her body with his and push her down. “I’ve been good to you, haven’t I?” He had her on her back, holding her against the bed with his weight. She was squirming and blushing delightfully under him, looking close to tears again. 

“Peter, you can’t-”

“Hush.” he told her, and tried to kiss her, but she turned her face away. He turned it back and made her kiss him, but it was hardly the deep, sweet kisses of her childhood. There was something perfect about this anyway. 

He flipped her over and spread her legs with his knees. Seeing her trembling beneath him like this was better than he had imagined. He pulled her hips up and reach around to start unbuttoning her jeans. 

“Forgive me if I skip the foreplay.” he said, his hips down firmly against her’s, letting her feel how hot he was for her. “Talia will find us in about an hour. What I have for you may take up more time than we can spare.” His front still pressing down on her back, he shimmied her jeans and panties down. One handed, he started to work his own pants off. The other hand came to brush over soft curls and folds, and she struggled but couldn’t pull away.

Realization was dawning on her slowly, and she started to pitch a bigger fit. “You can’t.” she sobbed. “You can’t. You’re going to hurt me if you - Please don’t hurt me.” she begged.

He shushed her again and was able to bring his pants down, his already stiff erection pressing against her ass as she cried. “You’ll like it. Even if it hurts, darling; your body will like the ownership.”

“ _No_ , Peter.”

One hand kept her shoulders down and to the bed as the other guided his cock to her hole. He nudge the head against her cunt and she _whined_ like a child. “God, my heart.” he moaned, starting to push into her heat. “I’ve want you - like this - for so long. You were born for this - for me. I’m not gonna last long in you.” 

“Pull out.” she squirmed. “God, _pull out_.”

He was all the way in, though, and she was perfect. She could hardly move - petrified - and she was warm, tight. His chest plastered against her back as he gave an experimental roll of his hips and she sobbed, not like he was hurting her but like something he couldn't touch physically was breaking. He was too gentle to cause much pain. A hand reached around to find and lightly rub at her clit as he started to fuck her slowly. 

“Next time,” he promised. “I’ll lick you here for hours, before and after, until you’re _sobbing_ ,” And she made some heartbroken noise, as if to remind him that she already was. “More than you are now. The way you’ll tremble,” his hips thrust forward particularly hard into her at the thought, deeper than he’d been, “The way I _know_ you’ll tremble.” 

“Peter, _stop_ ,” she pleaded, senselessly. He picked up the pace. 

“Gonna knot you, darling.” and he felt like he was almost babbling, almost nervous, inside of his love like this. He could already feel it begin to swell. “Told you I wouldn’t be able to last inside of you.” She groaned but was relatively motionless under his weight. “God, I hope it takes.”

“What?” she choked out.

He was moaning and the knot was pushing in and her breath was gone. He had wondered if she’d scream, but it seemed the opposite. Her entire body stopped, silenced. He circled his hips a little, snug against his mate, and felt himself start to come.

“What do you think, Deria?” he cooed to the still girl under him. “Think you’ll carry my pups this time?” That as what finally got her moving again, now whining and babbling no and tugging on the knot. 

“My love,” he reminded her fondly, still coming side her, “You can’t go anywhere for a while.”

She sobbed. “Peter, let me go. Please I-” she didn’t have the words to convey what the wracked, retching, wailing sound she made did. She barely managed out, “I can’t - mate. I _can’t_.”

He hushed her, kissing her neck, pulling her shirt collar down a little to expose more skin. “Of course you can. And if we don’t make it this time, we can just try again.” He kissed her across her back. “And again.” Kiss. “And again.” Kiss.

She said nothing, just cried, and he kept coming. He couldn’t wait to get her naked next time. To take it slow. To kiss her all over so she could finally understand the worship she deserved.

But, as it was, as minutes passed, and she shook beneath him, and he mindlessly mouthed at any skin he could reach, he could feel his knot going down and, as much as he wanted to flip her over and tire her out, he knew Big Sis would be less than pleased. So, he pulled out once her could and tucked himself away.

Over her sloppy mess, he pulled up her panties and jeans. She let him, seeming unable to do anything besides shake and collapse on the bed. He turned her over and indulged himself in one parting kiss. 

He said nothing else, as there was too much to say and plenty of time in the future for him to say it when they had their own Pack. He slipped his belt back on, shot one last, longing look at her, and left, as she was still weeping on the bed.

Peter was fully aware that deflowering his niece would have it’s consequences. Talia wouldn't take kindly to the news, and, if she felt merciful, he'd only be kicked out - made an Omega. And, as an Omega, he could foresee some difficulties when it came to seeing his young love again. But, with the help of the right hunters, he could easily watch his Big Sister and her happy, unfortunate family burn. 

He always thought he’d make a fine Alpha as it was.

**Author's Note:**

> Title kinda sorta taken from The Who's "Fiddle About."
> 
> Shameless tumblr plug: [My Blog](http://gigglesnortbangdead.tumblr.com/)


End file.
